


Sweet Revenge

by Maddie24601



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddie24601/pseuds/Maddie24601
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone from Toulon wants revenge against Javert, and it's not Valjean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the fandom, and this is my first Les Mis fic. I want to give a huge thank you to Ravenna44 for the generous time she devoted to helping me with my story. I learned so much for her, not only on ways to improve my story, but also how to improve as a writer. Her knowledge, suggestions and input were invaluable to me. Thank you, Ravenna!

Inspector Javert stifled a yawn while rubbing the weariness from his eyes. The thieves and thugs of Montreuil had relentlessly wreaked havoc in the small town all day, and he was grateful it was over. He mounted the steps leading to his apartment, his mind already settled on a bowl of soup with a cup of hot tea. Pulling the keys from his pocket, he inadvertently forced the wrong one into the keyhole. He grumbled under his breath and tried again, the familiar click a small victory in his hectic day. An unusual chill greeted him as he entered the normally stuffy apartment. His eyes immediately panned the room from wall to wall. A flicker of light in the far corner captured his attention. Shards of glass were strewn beneath the window facing the alley, the sunlight reflecting among the shattered pieces. Instinctively, he reached for his pistol just as a blinding pain shot through the back of his head. He fell to his knees and toppled forward, jarring the weapon from his hand.

"Good evening, Javert. It's nice to see you, again."

Javert blinked away the flecks of blue and white blurring his vision and focused on his pistol, an arm’s length away. He stretched for his weapon, just as the heavy heel of a boot pressed down on his wrist, allowing only the tips of his fingers to graze the barrel. A large, grimy hand closed on the pistol's grip. In an instant, he felt the press of steel to his temple.

"You're going to die tonight."

Javert channeled the fear of death to the back of his mind, while ignoring the intense pain throbbing in his head. He concentrated his efforts on every detail of his captor within his peripheral view--the worn leather boot pinning his wrist, prison issued, size 45; the neatly tailored trousers, expensive, eight centimeters too short, no doubt stolen; right handed, no visible scars or markings. A swift hand groped his body, dipping in and out of his pockets, emptying them, continuing across his buttocks, under his hips, and to the front of his trousers, where an ominous pause unnerved him. He heard a low moan, instilling a sense of dread that the man was not merely searching and disarming him. The hand then slipped between his thighs, and glided down the length of his legs before disappearing. His arms were roughly pulled behind him, the cold bite of metal securing his wrists. A wave of dizziness threatened to spill the contents of his stomach as he was jerked upright and dragged to the side of the room. As he clutched the wall for support, he was finally able to see his attacker's face. He studied every feature of the man leering at him. "Who are you?" Javert asked. "What do you want?"

"It's simple. I want revenge."

"Oh, really?" Javert scoffed. "For what?"

Keeping a wary eye on his victim, the man quickly lit a candle, and stepped in front of Javert, the lambent flame casting an ominous light upon his weatherworn face. "Don't you recognize me?"

The stench of filth and sweat assaulted Javert's nostrils as the man loomed over him. "Aside from the fact that you are a man in dire need of both a good tailor and a bath, I have no idea who you are." A stiff backhand across the face snapped his head to the side.

"How could you not remember me? You were with me nearly every day for twenty-one years, never showing a moment's mercy for me or for anyone there! I am Arnaud Drouin!" Drouin gripped Javert around the throat, slamming his head repeatedly against the wall. "32831! 32831! Now, do you remember me? Do you?"

Bolts of pain consumed Javert with the merciless assault. He struggled to retain a hold on his consciousness, the sickening thud of his head cracking against the wall drowning out Drouin's taunts. He managed a quick nod as the numbers were jolted to the front of his mind. "Yes, yes, I remember you, now."

With a final shove, Drouin released his hold on Javert. "I thought that might help jar your memory."

Javert briefly closed his eyes against his swimming vision, then glared at the man known simply as 32831 to him. He recalled the numbers well from his time as a guard at Toulon prison. 32831's long list of offenses had been the subject of discussion between him and the other guards on more than one occasion; the most vicious offense, the rape and murder of a young girl and stabbing death of her parents. "So, when did you escape?" he asked. "You were serving a life sentence."

"Three weeks ago," Drouin boasted. "And I will not rest in my grave until I have my revenge against you and the other two guards who beat and raped me. I already took care of Rousseau. Slit his throat from ear to ear. He didn't even have time to draw his weapon.” Pulling a second pistol from his waistband, he stroked the polished grip. “Isn’t she a beauty”? He stared down the barrel toward Javert. "You're next, then it's Piccard's turn."

"I never touched you," Javert stated adamantly.

"No, but you did nothing to stop the other two. You turned your back while they used me again and again!"

"I was not aware of this, I assure you."

"You lie! Do you have any idea what I went through at their hands?"

"You will get no sympathy from me," Javert said. "You deserve no more mercy than you showed your victims, 32831." Another backhand filled his mouth with blood.

"My name is Arnaud Drouin! Say it! Say my name!"

Javert remained defiantly silent. Drouin raised a hand to strike him, again, but a soft rapping at the door interrupted the assault. He was jerked to his feet, Drouin firmly clamping a hand over his mouth, as the barrel of the gun jutted under his chin.

“Who is that? Are you expecting someone?” Drouin hissed in his ear.

Javert felt the grip on his mouth loosen, but he didn’t immediately respond.

"Answer me!" Drouin shoved the barrel of the weapon deeper, forcing Javert's head back against his shoulder.

"It's Monsieur le Maire," Javert managed to say around the pressure at his throat. "We have some business to tend to."

"The mayor? I don't think you want to be responsible for his death, now do you?"

The gun barrel twisted further into Javert's flesh. "No, of course not."

"Good. Get rid of him. If you give any hint that something's wrong, he's a dead man. Understood?"

"Yes."

There was another knock.

With Drouin's forearm braced against his throat and the gun to his head, Javert stumbled to the door. "Who is it?" He tried to keep his voice level.

"It's Madeleine." There was a slight pause. "I believe you were expecting me?"

"Monsieur le Maire, I do apologize, but I will not be able to see you this evening. I have taken ill with fever."

"Fever? You were fine earlier. Is something wrong?"

The pressure against Javert's temple increased. "No, I'm fine. I'm afraid it may be contagious, though, so forgive me if I do not open the door. Perhaps, after a glass of bourbon and a night's rest, I will feel better. I will call on you, tomorrow."

The doorknob jiggled back and forth. "I'm going to send for a doctor. If you would just open--"

Drouin aimed the pistol at the door. "I'll kill him, I swear," he whispered.

"No, Monsieur Madeleine!" Javert interrupted. "I told you I will call on you tomorrow. Good evening."

"Very well, Inspector. I'll see you then."

The sound of retreating footsteps trailed off in the distance, allowing Javert a brief moment of reprieve.

"Nicely done." Drouin shoved Javert to the middle of the room. "Now, get on your knees."

Javert reluctantly did as he was told. "You know they'll catch you, eventually."

"They'll never catch me. I've been a free man nearly three weeks, now. Those guards in their stuffy uniforms and their smug attitudes. I've made them a laughing stock." Drouin slowly circled Javert like a predator. "I'd kill every one of them, given the chance, just like I'm going to kill you."

Javert felt Drouin step up behind him, straddling his calves, the pistol, once again, pressed to his temple. A hand squeezed his shoulder, the touch no longer painful, but gentle and suggestive. Fingers toyed with his collarbone, following the slight curve of the bone to his neck. He attempted to pull away, but the pistol bit harder into his temple, forcing him to remain still.

"Do you know what it was like, sucking Piccard and Rousseau off, day after day?" Drouin asked menacingly.

Javert remained composed as Drouin's hand lightly trailed up his neck and cupped his chin. A thumb brushed across his lips.

"Or what it was like, dreading nightfall, knowing they would take me by force on my own cot?"

Javert tensed as Drouin's hand moved to slip between the buttons of his shirt, fingertips stroking his chest, a stark contrast to the barrel of the gun twisting the flesh at his temple.

"I want you to know what it was like, before you die, tonight," Drouin hissed.

Javert dared not resist. He could only stare straight ahead, stone-faced. "It will serve no purpose. My death, however unjustified, should be sufficient for the vengeance you seek."

*******************************

Madeleine stepped quietly from the shadow of Javert's bedroom. He wasn't prepared for the sight greeting him: Javert on his knees with a gun to his head, a stranger's hand slipped between the buttons of his shirt. Fear twisted his gut. If he intervened, Javert might die. But if he did nothing--

"What's going on here?" Madeleine demanded. Drouin swung on him, pistol raised.

"How did you get in here?" Drouin yelled.

"The window in the bedroom was unlocked." Madeleine's eyes darted between the intruder and Javert. "I knew something wasn't right when you said you were going to have a glass of bourbon, Inspector. You don't drink."

"Yes, I have had better days." Javert shifted his weight from one knee to the other, the handcuffs jingling behind him.

"This is the mayor?" Drouin glared at Javert. "I warned you what would happen if you tried anything."

Madeleine took a careful step forward. "Just put your weapon down. What do you want? Food? Money? Maybe I can help." 

Drouin kicked at Javert's leg. "No, I have everything I want right here."

Holding his palms open, arms extended, Madeleine moved closer.

Drouin aimed the pistol higher, in line with Madeleine's chest. "Stay back!"

"Madeleine, no!" Javert shouted. "This is not your battle!"

Drouin cocked his head sideways. "Wait a minute." He picked up the candle and angled it so a better light was cast upon Madeleine's features. Lips curled back from yellowed teeth in a contemptuous laugh. "Your name is not Madeleine. Don't you know who this is, Javert? You, of all people, should know."

"I already told you who it is."

"Ha! You pride yourself on your police skills? This man is the convict Jean Valjean. I should know. I was chained alongside him for years in the shipyards at Toulon."

Madeleine's face drained of color. "How do you know..." He paused as he recognized the man standing before him. "Drouin, is that you? It has been many years, my friend."

"It has," Drouin agreed, still keeping the gun trained on Madeleine. "You're the mayor, now? I'm impressed."

"So, 24601, it is you!" The words spewed from Javert like venom. He tried to lunge to his feet but Drouin’s hand forced him back down to his knees. "All of the time I spent looking for you, and you were here all along, making a mockery of me! Oh, yes, I had my suspicions, but I had trouble convincing myself that a man with such a moral standing in this town, such admirable attributes, could possibly be a criminal," he seethed. "I should have acted on my suspicions long ago. You would be back in prison where you belong!"

"I paid for my crime, Javert! I made a new life for myself, an honest life!" Madeline insisted. "You were wrong to keep pursuing me!"

"I had every reason to. You violated your parole. I couldn't just let you go."

"Why couldn't you?" Madeleine drew his hands down the length of his face. "What good would it do to send me back to prison? Why ruin everything I worked so hard for?"

"Because you are a thief and a liar on the run from the law!"

"Enough of this petty argument!" Drouin waved his pistol in the air. "Let's get back to the business at hand, shall we?" He reached for the button of his trousers. "Javert and I were getting ready to have a little fun."

"Drouin, no!" Madeleine spread his hands in appeal in front of him. "You don't want to do this."

"Stay back, Valjean. I mean it," Drouin warned. "Why so concerned, anyway? This is, after all, a man who wishes to see you back in prison." He rubbed at his chin and nodded toward Javert. "You want a go at him? He always did seem a little preoccupied with you at Toulon."

Madeleine shook his head with conviction. "I don't make it a habit of sexually assaulting my Chief Police Inspector, Drouin. I want no part in this."

Drouin shrugged. "As you wish. You have nothing to fear, though. Javert is not going to have the opportunity to press charges. Are you, Javert?" He grabbed a handful of Javert's hair and snapped his head back, the sudden movement forcing Javert's mouth open. "You can continue your charade as the mayor, because your secret will die here tonight." Drouin shoved the barrel of the pistol into Javert's mouth and began moving it in and out in a slow, deliberate motion. "Come on, Inspector, put your lips around it."

Javert fought to turn his head away.

“You’ll do as I say, Javert!” Drouin forced the gun barrel deeper.

Madeleine watched Javert's face turn a deep crimson. "Stop this madness, Drouin! He can't breathe!” he shouted. "Don't make things any worse for yourself than they already are!"

Drouin ignored him and jerked on Javert's hair, again. "Do it, Javert! You'd better enjoy this, because I'm getting ready to shove something a lot bigger than this down your throat!"

Javert made an effort to comply, pressing his lips to the barrel between gasps for air.

Drouin jerked the barrel from Javert's mouth and lightly slapped him twice on the face. "Very good, Inspector." He pulled his cock from his trousers and began stroking himself, bouncing the tip in front of Javert's mouth. "Now, I think this is where we left off before Valjean interrupted us."

"I will not let this continue!" Madeleine protested.

"I don't think this is up to you." Drouin thrust a finger in Madeleine's direction. "Be clear on this, Valjean: while I bear you no ill will, if you try to stop me, I have no problem killing you as well." He placed the barrel of the gun under Javert's chin, tilting his head upward. "Open wide, Javert."

"Drouin, no! This is immoral!"

Javert glared at Madeleine from the corner of his eye. "You self-righteous bastard!" he spat. "Why do you care? You are no better than Drouin is, nothing but an animal. If I was again given the chance, I would see you back in chains at Toulon."

Madeleine tugged the leather gloves from his hands, threw them on the nearby dining table, and stormed toward Javert. "That's it! Drouin, I'll take you up on your offer." He reached for the button of his trousers.

Drouin gave a quick chuckle, then stifled his laughter. "Are you serious, Valjean?"

"Let me show you how serious I am."

Drouin hesitated, then moved aside. "Be my guest. I'll be right over here--watching."

Stepping in front of Javert, Madeleine pulled the length of his cock from his trousers. "Open your mouth," he said sharply.

Javert's eyes widened. "Have you gone mad?"

"Oh, I can assure you that I'm quite lucid, Javert. Even as I tried to save you from Drouin's advances, you made it clear that you would still put me behind bars, again, given the chance. In your own words, I am nothing but an animal. The ever-so-kind Monsieur le Maire has a breaking point, and you, dear Inspector, have driven me to mine. Now, open your mouth."

Javert reluctantly obeyed, opening his mouth just wide enough to allow Madeleine to slip his cock inside.

Capturing Javert's face between his palms, Madeleine warned, "Careful now, Javert. Don't even think about biting me." He pushed himself further into the unwilling mouth. "Come on, you can do better than that." Javert attempted to pull away, but Madeleine's hold remained firm, guiding the warm mouth back and forth along his hardening cock again and again, until Javert had taken him up to his balls. Madeleine moaned, hips bucking forward in response. "You've done this before, Inspector." Javert jerked against his grip in response, but still could not free himself. The firm pressure of teeth sinking into Madeleine's skin sent a jolt of pain through him. He grabbed Javert's jaws, thumbs pressing into the hinges. "Easy!" Javert was glaring up at him, nostrils flared. Madeleine applied more pressure with his thumbs, compelling Javert to loosen his bite. "Finish it," he commanded. As the pressure eased, Madeleine looked away from the eyes searing into him, while forcing Javert to bring him to completion, his seed spilling down the inspector's throat in a quick succession of spasms.

With a sharp twist of his head, Javert pulled free from Madeleine's grasp. He rubbed the moisture from his swollen lips onto his shoulder and leaned back on his heels, face flushed red.

Drouin pushed Madeleine aside. "Okay, he's mine, now." He shoved his cock in front of Javert's face. "It's my turn, Javert. Open your mouth."

"No flowers or candy first?" Javert mocked through clenched teeth.

Drouin feigned a fit of laughter, then leaned over Javert, their faces inches apart. "You didn't seem to mind doing Valjean, but then, again, maybe that's what you've always wanted."

Javert spit into Drouin's face. "Go to Hell."

Drouin wiped his face on his shirtsleeve and grabbed Javert by the throat. "Open your mouth, or I'll end this right now!" He shoved the gun to Javert's temple, finger tightening on the trigger.

"Wait!" Madeleine pulled Javert to his feet and away from Drouin. "You want your turn, don't you?"

"He's not cooperating!" Drouin huffed.

"You're going about it the wrong way. I'll hold him down." Madeleine dragged Javert toward the dining table.

Javert's boots skittered against the stone floor as he braced himself against Madeleine's chest. "NO!"

Madeleine grabbed Javert by the back of the neck and pushed him face down on the dining table, pinning him there. An ornate vase filled with wilting flowers toppled from its resting place in the center of the small piece of furniture, shattering into countless pieces on the floor.

"Let go of me!" Javert attempted to twist free from the hand gripping his neck. "I swear, Madeleine, if you let him--." His words were cut off mid-sentence as Madeleine stuffed the discarded gloves into his mouth. He made a sound of furious protest, shaking his head in a futile attempt to spit the gag out.

"He's all yours, Drouin." Madeleine slapped Javert on the buttock, offering the inspector like a sacrificial lamb.

Drouin darted toward the table, his eagerness showing in the massive erection protruding from his trousers. "You don't know how much I'm looking forward to this."

Javert kicked out his leg, catching Drouin squarely in the groin.

Drouin howled in pain, his knees nearly buckling underneath him. "You're going to be sorry you did that, Javert!" He fumbled with both pistols as he attempted to reach around Javert and unbutton his trousers, a monumental task considering the fight presented against his assault. "Hold him still, Valjean!"

Madeleine released his hold on Javert. "Here, let me have the pistols. You'll never get anywhere otherwise," he offered with outstretched hands.

Free from Madeleine's grasp, Javert bolted from the table.

Drouin shoved his weapons into Madeleine's hands. "Take them!" He caught Javert by the back of the coat and slammed him back down to the table. "You're not going anywhere!"

Madeleine's eyes met Javert's. They were glazed in pain, pleading for intervention, the breath driven from his lungs by the impact on the table. He watched Javert draw on the last of his dwindling strength, the gag stealing his breath, leaving him with little means to fight the ravaging hands seeking to undress him. An unbridled rage gripped Madeleine. He raised both pistols and aimed--not at Javert, but squarely at the broad back of Drouin, as an inner struggle stirred the depths of his soul. Jean Valjean's tormented years in the Bagne resurfaced. Madeleine's sense of reason and compassion were lost among the dank, musty cells of Toulon. He felt himself barreling into a black abyss, as his finger tightened on the trigger, no longer in control, his actions guided by a violent rage he thought had been dispelled by years of careful piety. "No," he whispered, glancing upward for the strength to resist. His grip loosened on the trigger, whether by his own restraint or the power of God, he wasn't sure, but he knew his decision was the right one. He had to give Drouin the chance to surrender. "Get away from him, Drouin, NOW."

Drouin looked up to find himself staring down the barrels of the two pistols. "What? What do you mean? You had your turn."

"I mean get away from him, or I will shoot you." Madeleine raised the pistols higher.

Drouin released his hold on Javert with a rough shove, his erection withering. "You double-crossed me, Valjean! You dare! I was going to let you go."

A series of short, muffled gasps drew Madeleine's eyes to Javert. 

Javert's eyes were wide with fear, his face tinged with blue, as he desperately fought for each breath.

Drouin pulled a knife from his pocket, holding it high above Javert's back. "He deserves to die!"

“NO!” There was no hesitation. Madeleine fired his weapon, striking Drouin in the chest.

The knife clattered onto the table next to Javert. Drouin dropped to the floor, clutching at the open wound. Flecks of blood sputtered from his mouth as he choked out his last breath, his face twisting in a final grimace of pain. His head fell to the side, hand slipping from his chest into the crimson puddle pooling on the floor.

A quick nudge with his boot assured Madeleine that Drouin was dead. He rushed to Javert and pulled the gloves from his mouth. "Javert, it's over, now. Just take deep breaths," he soothed, while rubbing his hand across Javert's back. "That's it. Breathe."

Javert was gulping air as fast as his body allowed, the color in his face returning along with his renewed vigor. “Get…get…these…handcuffs…OFF OF M-ME, NOW!” he demanded.

Madeleine retrieved the keys from Drouin's body and freed Javert. He offered his hand in support, but it was shoved aside.

Javert immediately put distance between himself and Madeleine. He took great care to straighten his hair and clothing, tugging at the bottom of his coat to smooth the wrinkles.

Madeleine stepped toward Javert. "Javert, I am--,"

"Don't." Javert gritted his teeth as he held his hand up and backed away. "Please, summon my men and wait outside for them to arrive." He fell silent and turned his back to Madeleine.

"Of course." Madeleine darted toward the door without hesitation.

Within minutes, the apartment was swarming with police officers. Javert remained professional and attentive throughout the investigation, his calm demeanor never alluding to what had really taken place.

Madeleine strained to hear Javert's account of the altercation, but the numerous voices filling the small room allowed only the occasional word--Toulon, escaped convict, le Maire. Javert's eyes never met his once. He took a deep breath, his broad shoulders straightening as the officer who had been speaking with Javert walked his way. He could already feel the shackles upon his wrists as he was hauled off to Toulon once more, exposed as Jean Valjean, the thief, the probation violator, and now the man who sexually assaulted the Chief Police Inspector.

"Monsieur le Maire, may I have your account of the intrusion?"

They were not the words Madeleine heard. He turned his back to the officer, prepared for the handcuffs.

"Monsieur? Is something wrong?"

Madeleine faced the officer again. "Pardon, Lieutenant?" He shook his head in an attempt to clear the pounding in his ears.

"Your account of the intrusion, monsieur. I need your statement."

"My statement? Yes, my statement. Of course." Madeleine made a valiant effort to steady his voice, hoping his unsettled demeanor would merely be mistaken for the fact that he had just killed a man and nothing more. He gave a simple account detailing the intrusion itself and Drouin's desire for revenge, but he took it no further than that. From the corner of his eye, he watched Javert excuse himself to his bedroom, leaving the other police officers to the cleanup and removal of the body. As the bedroom door quietly closed, he gradually grew impatient while the officers mulled over every detail of the altercation for a second time. He urged the men to wrap things up and remove the body, funneling them toward the front door with a myriad of handshakes and good evenings. With a sigh of relief, he watched the last of the men disappear around the corner of the building. He locked the door behind them and approached Javert's bedroom, knocking lightly. "Javert?" There was no answer. He knocked again, inched the door open, and warily peered inside.

Javert was in bed, covers pulled to the top of his bare chest. He was looking away from Madeleine, staring at the wall.

Madeleine cautiously entered the room, stopping midway in preparation for the litany of obscenities that would surely be hurled at him, but Javert remained silent. He continued to the bed and stared down at the solemn figure tucked beneath the covers. Reaching toward Javert, he tried to speak, but his mouth couldn't form the words needed to adequately apologize. He immediately drew back his hand, dropping it to his side with regret, and turned away, uttering a mere, 'Javert, I'm sorry,' as he hurried to leave the room.

"That vase was very special to me, you know."

Madeleine stopped mid-stride and slowly turned around, uncertainty churning in his belly. "What did you say?"

"You bought me that vase and flowers for my birthday. They are irreplaceable," Javert clarified, his expression unreadable.

Madeleine choked back the emotion threatening to bring him to his knees. With great apprehension, he slipped into the bed, stretching his fully clothed body against Javert, hoping the words weren't merely a ploy to draw him close enough to be pummeled for what he had done. He leaned over and placed a light kiss on Javert's bruised cheek. "I will have another vase crafted in Paris just like that one," he promised. "And I will fill it with the finest Tea roses." He dared to elaborate on the appreciation of his gift, considering what he had just done. "I never knew my gift meant that much to you."

"Well, it did."

Rubbing his thumb across Javert's forehead, Madeleine hoped to relax the crease caused by the intense frown now glowering at him. "Javert, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. You know if Drouin realized you were already aware of my true identity, he would have killed us both. I had to do something until I had the chance to disarm him. You have every right to be furious with me."

Javert crossed his arms across his chest, body rigid. "I am, I mean, I was. I realize he would have killed us both. It is why I played along as well. I just didn't expect to be on my knees sucking you into oblivion while I did it." His face twisted, head bobbing side to side. "You've done this before, Inspector," he mocked in his best Madeleine voice.

Madeleine smiled at the lousy impersonation of himself. "Well, you have, and quite remarkably, I might add." He kissed the lips that had pleasured him so many times.

Javert rejected the kiss with a gentle push to Madeleine's chest. "You are hopeless."

Undaunted, Madeleine moved to Javert's neck, pleased that his succession of lingering kisses also weren't spurned. "Hopeless, no. Just a man who appreciates one of your many virtues."

"Such talk will not put you in my good graces again so easily." Javert attempted a frown and looked away, the gesture allowing easier access to his neck.

Madeleine continued the tender assault along the exposed flesh, just under Javert's earlobe, a place he knew to be especially sensitive. "No?" A sprinkle of goosebumps followed the intimate gesture. "Are you sure?"

With a contented sigh, Javert ceded, turning to redirect the kisses to his own lips once more. "I suppose your motives were justified," he mumbled against the mouth pressed against his.

Madeleine pulled back and stared deep into the weary eyes looking up at him. "I couldn't bear the thought of him touching you, or worse, killing you, being forced to watch that. It was the only thing I could think of to keep him away from you."

"I guess you didn't have many choices at the time." Javert pensively toyed with a ball of fuzz on his blanket. He plucked it off and threw it aside. "But gagging me? Did you deem it necessary to do that? I nearly suffocated, you know."

"That was never my intention, I assure you," Madeleine replied with regret. "I was afraid you were going to jeopardize my plan."

"I hardly think I was in the position to do that, handcuffed, with you pinning me down to the table," Javert reminded, rubbing at the red marks that remained around his wrists. He tucked an arm behind his head, the irritation in his face fading. "Though I must admit, if Drouin hadn't been there waiting to split my skull with a bullet, the predicament you had me in was not quite as intolerable as I led you to believe. I mean, you know, if you ever wanted to, I mean...."

Madeleine was intrigued by the confession. He pulled one wrist up to meet the other one tucked behind Javert's head, pinning them down gently against the pillow. "What is it you are trying to suggest, Inspector?"

"I think you know quite well what I'm trying to suggest, Monsieur le Maire." Javert gave a playful tug against the hold upon him.

A lopsided smile grinned back at Madeleine, the swelling on the side of Javert's face preventing his lips from fully curving upward. Madeleine released his hold and placed a featherlight kiss to the bruised mouth. He carefully pulled an exhausted Javert into his arms, and settled into bed, boots poking from underneath the covers. "Another time, then, my love."

"You know where my handcuffs are."


End file.
